


Nothing to Be Ashamed Of

by still_lycoris



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alcohol, Closeted Character, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 13:37:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16620029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: After Matsuda's birthday, Ide is tasked with taking Light home. The conversation goes to places that Ide didn't expect it to go ...





	Nothing to Be Ashamed Of

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tallulah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tallulah/gifts).



> Happy (slightly late) birthday Tallulah!

It was stupid to go out drinking in the first place.

Ide wasn’t a big drinker. Never had been, not even in college. But Matsuda made such a _fuss_ and since the Chief had already pulled out, it was hard to disappoint, particularly since it was Matsuda’s birthday. So he’d sighed and agreed to go. Of course, Matsuda had picked some terrible place, all loud and bubbly like a kid’s bar. Most of the drinks had stupid names and Matsuda was having the time of his life. He bought all of them too many drinks and somehow convinced Light to have a shot-drinking competition with him which meant that he got drunk quickly and Light ... well, actually, it was hard to tell that Light might be drunk except that after winning, he tucked himself in the back of the booth and seemed to go to sleep.

Matsuda did not go to sleep. He bounced around and told all of them at least three times how great they were. Ide wasn’t quite sure if he should believe it or not. Matsuda was truly ridiculous at the best of times and drink apparently made him worse.

“Right,” Aizawa said after the third time. “I’ve had enough. I’ll get this idiot home, you make sure Light gets back all right.”

Ide wanted to argue, ask why Mogi didn’t get the job except that when he looked around, Mogi had already slipped away. That was the think about a mostly silent colleague. You sometimes forgot they were there at all.

Aizawa had got hold of Matsuda now and Matsuda leaned against him, draping an arm over Aizawa’s shoulder, laughing. He leaned up to whisper something in Aizawa’s ear, and Aizawa pulled back, looking slightly surprised.

“Shut up, you idiot,” he said roughly. “Come on. You’re going home to sleep this off!”

“Okaaaay,” Matsuda drew the word out. “Bye-bye Ide! Bye-bye Light!”

Aizawa pulled him away. Ide turned to Light to wake him and saw that Light’s eyes were already open.

“Are they gone?”

“Yes. Time for us to go too.”

“Oh good,” Light said. He got to his feet with most of his usual grace, though Ide saw him grip the table slightly. “That was terribly boring.”

“You were asleep for most of it,” Ide pointed out.

“No, I was pretending to be asleep to get it over with faster. Which did at least save me from Matsuda telling me he loved me every ten minutes.”

Ide couldn’t help frowning. He’d not heard Light be quite so ... sharp before. He’d heard him angry, frustrated by their lack of progress in the case but he’d never heard him sound cruel. Not that Matsuda _wasn’t_ an idiot who talked too much and was an over-affectionate drunk but it was weird to hear Light saying quite so clearly. Light seemed to realise because he smiled slightly and looked sheepish.

“Sorry. I think I drank a little too much.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t believe you drank shots with him.”

“Neither can I!” Light said and he laughed and he was himself again, which was comforting. Ide liked people to be what you expected them to be. It made things feel ... easier. When people changed, it was always a little disturbing. He liked to know what he was getting into.

Light was definitely still drunk though. He was walking with a spring in his step, looking happier than Ide could remember seeing him before. He also kept looking round, as though he was expecting to see someone behind them, though there wasn’t anybody there and even smiled at midair. When he saw that Ide had noticed this, he seemed to blush a bit.

“You don’t have to walk me home.”

“Yes, I do. Aizawa asked me to. Looks like I got the easier job though. And least I’m not having to carry you.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Light said. “Aizawa might enjoy it.”

Ide snorted. He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t imagine Aizawa getting any pleasure out of dragging a mostly-insensible Matsuda back to his apartment. Aizawa had never been very sympathetic, even back when they’d been in college ...

“I think if Matsuda doesn’t annoy him to death, it might be a miracle,” he said.

“Well, Matsuda will probably try to make it up to him,” Light said. “If Aizawa accepts it anyway.”

“What are you talking about?” Ide asked. Now they were out in the fresh air, he was beginning to realise that he was a little drunk himself. He’d thought that he’d been careful but he’d had more than he’d meant and instead of sobering him up, it was making him feel looser. He didn’t exactly mind it, if he was honest. Life had been too real lately. Too uncomfortable. Maybe Matsuda hadn’t been entirely wrong to try and get them all hammered ...

“Well,” Light said, bringing him back to the conversation. “Matsuda’s going to hit on him, isn’t he?”

“Matsuda’s ... going to _what?_ ”

Light gave him a patronising look.

“Come on. It’s obvious. Matsuda’s a handsy drunk, Aizawa isn’t a bad looking man. He’s probably already hit on him. The real question is if Aizawa will say yes or not. I think he might. After all, why else would _he_ be taking Matsuda back and not you?”

“I ... n-no ... that’s ... that’s not ... ”

It _was_ usually him who had to deal with Matsuda. Whenever he was being particularly annoying, loud or perky, it was Ide who got him to quiet down. Well, unless Aizawa was particularly annoyed, then he yelled. Or the Chief ordered him to shut up. But it was usually Ide but that wasn’t weird, because ... because ...

“You live closer to him,” Light said. “Yet Aizawa took him home. Why? Because he knows what Matsuda’s going to ask him to do and he’s curious. He wants to be asked. He wants to see how that makes him feel.”

“No. Aizawa’s straight, he’s married. He’s not ... interested in men.”

“Being married doesn’t actually mean anything. Everyone can get curious. Have you never been curious about something that you wouldn’t normally want? Or someone you _shouldn’t_ want?”

Ide didn’t want to hear the question. He didn’t want to think about the question. He didn’t like this conversation at all. It was churning in his head; Aizawa and Matsuda, Aizawa and Matsuda. Were they home? Was Matsuda whispering something in Aizawa’s ear, something dumb, something flirty? Aizawa would just tell him to get lost, wouldn’t he? Aizawa would just shove him away, tell him not to be an idiot. Light was crazy if he thought it was something else, had to be.

“Aizawa’s straight,” he said again. The words sounded small, stupid, meaningless. It had to be the drink, getting his head all messed up. Getting Light’s head all messed up too.

“I told you. That doesn’t matter. He’s curious. Maybe even fascinated. For one night ... I think he’ll go to bed with him. I think he’ll enjoy screwing Matsuda into the mattress, finding out just what that feels like.”

“Stop it! Stop it, this is ... c’mon Light!”

“Sorry,” Light said and he sounded genuinely contrite. He reached out, put a hand on Ide’s arm. It was warm. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I know this must be difficult for you.”

“Difficult for me?”

“Well,” Light said. “Personal might be the better word, perhaps.”

Ide stared at him. He suddenly felt slightly queasy.

“Why would it be personal to me?!”

He knew that he’d said it too loudly, too defensively. Light didn’t seem worried about his tone. His hand was still resting on Ide’s arm and he didn’t move away.

“Because of your own feelings, of course,” he said. “Did you think I didn’t know? I know I’m not the real L to you all but I’m not a fool and I know about people. Don’t worry, I’m sure none of them know. You haven’t even told Aizawa, have you?”

“Told him _what?_ ”

Light raised his eyebrows and Ide felt a sudden urge to punch him straight in the face, knock that smug expression right away. Light didn’t know, _couldn’t_ know. He hadn’t ever said. He hadn’t ever done anything ...

“It’s all right,” Light said. “At least to me. I don’t mind that you want to fuck men, why should I? I don’t think Matsuda would either ... but maybe that’s why you’ve never told him? He might not mind a little too much for comfort?”

Ide didn’t answer. Maybe if he just didn’t talk, this conversation would stop and tomorrow, he could pretend that they hadn’t had it and they could just forget about it and he could stop thinking about Aizawa and Matsuda kissing, stop thinking about kissing at all because he didn’t think about kissing, he couldn’t because if he did, it led him to places that he didn’t want to go ... and to hear Light, Light of all people say it in such blunt terms ...

“Yes, that’s about it, isn’t it?” Light said. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry! Just, ... stop it!”

He hated how he sounded. Drunk and stupid and upset, like this all mattered to him like it had upset him, when it hadn’t, obviously, he was _fine_ , just ... freaked out and he just wanted this to stop.

Light stopped talking. They walked along in silence for a while, Ide wishing that Light lived closer so this could all be over. Things that he never wanted to think about were flooding his mind, lonely bitter thoughts; how he’d always thought things would change but how they never had, how he wasn’t sure what he wanted and then he was but if anyone ever knew because you just didn’t, not in the police force, you just didn’t want other men and why couldn’t he just be like the others? And he could be like the others if he didn’t think about it so he didn’t, he just didn’t, only now he was and it hurt.

“You shouldn’t be so ashamed you know,” Light’s voice cut through his thoughts sharply, cleanly. “If you are ashamed, it lets people use those things against you.”

“Only if there is something to use.”

“If you feel there is something to use, there is,” Light said. He put his hand on Ide’s arm again. When had his hand got so hot? When had he become so ... so tactile?

“Anyone can use anything against someone, even if you think you’ve kept it a secret. Believe me, I know.”

He looked so sad when he said that, so sad and lost that it seemed wrong not to reciprocate, to touch his shoulder (all of Light was warm, it seemed) and try to find the right words, something comforting to say ...

“I can’t imagine anything anybody could use against you.”

“No?” Light said and he looked at Ide, really _looked_ at it was impossible to look away from that look and they were still touching each other and everything else suddenly seemed so far away and Ide knew he needed to say something and move away because this was too much, too close and why couldn’t he think? Why were they suddenly so close?

Why did he suddenly want to be closer?

“Your apartment is nearby,” Light’s voice was soft.

“I ... yes.”

“Take me there.”

It was not a request, for all it was softly spoken. Ide couldn’t have resisted either way. Something was happening here and it was making him dizzy; there were thoughts in his head that he was sure he’d never had before, not about Light at least but now, they were bubbling, irresistible ...

They walked in silence again, Light close to him the whole way. Ide kept thinking things; _why are we doing this? you should go home, you’re drunk, I’m drunk. this can’t be what it seems to be ..._ but they all died unspoken in his dry mouth. He wanted another drink. He wanted ...

He tried so hard never to want.

The flat was dark but when he fumbled with the light switch, Light caught his hand, stopping him. For half a moment, they just stood like that, half-tangled in the dark. Light was close, too close and he was warm and there was this smell of him, warm and pleasant and Ide wanted, he wanted ...

Then they were kissing, hard, frantic and he knew he’d started it and part of him couldn’t believe it, was telling him that he needed to stop, that he was a fool but that part was being overwhelmed with sheer _need_ because oh, oh, Light was kissing him and his mouth was as warm as the rest of him and his lips were soft and Ide just wanted to touch him and feel him and he realised he was saying all of this out-loud against Light’s mouth and he knew that he ought to shut up but he couldn’t seem to make himself stop and Light was pushing against him, hard, clutching at him. He buried his face in the crook of Light’s neck, breathing him in, giddy with want. He knew that they ought to move to the bedroom but that involved stopping and he didn’t want to stop ...

Light seemed to realise this and obviously didn’t agree. He made a muffled noise that was half a word and somehow squirmed free, still holding Ide’s arm. He pulled Ide down the hallway and into his bedroom and Ide followed, not questioning how Light knew which room it was, not _caring_ , only wanting to get back to the kissing, to _feeling_ because it hadn’t happened for so long and had it ever been like this?

He pulled Light back into his arms, licked the slender column of his neck, started tugging at his shirt to reveal more skin beneath. Light made soft noises, stroked his hands down Ide’s back, over his shoulders. When Ide pulled him down onto the bed, he came easily, helping Ide with his own shirt, kissing Ide’s mouth like a benediction, almost infuriatingly gentle now ad Ide just wanted more ...

He said that out-loud too, had to have done because Light said softly “All right Ide-san.” and then suddenly, somehow was on top of him, leaning down to kiss him again. The curtains were open and the dim light that came in made him look blue and white, almost inhuman and as they looked at each other, Ide thought he saw a vicious look on Light’s face, a cold sneer of disgusted triumph – but then it was gone and Light was leaning down over him, kissing him and rocking their hips together and Ide arched up to meet each movement, trying to touch Light all over, feeling his skin, shuddering at every touch of it.

“You’re beautiful,” he gasped out. “You’re so beautiful, please, please, please, more?”

“Yes,” Light whispered back. “Yes, I am, Ide-san and yes, you may have more.”

He kissed Ide again, drowning him in kisses, in touches that felt better than anything Ide had imagined. He didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to think, didn’t want anything except this and he knew he was going to come and he hadn’t even gotten his trousers off and he didn’t care because this, this was enough.

*

He woke up when his alarm went off with a headache throbbing in his temples and a deep, deep sense of shame.

Light was gone, of course. Ide had no idea when he’d left. He didn’t remember. He didn’t even remember falling asleep – but then, he supposed it had been less falling asleep and more passing out.

He felt like a dirty old man. How could he have done that? How _could_ he? Light was so much younger than him, Light was the Chief’s son and he’d got drunk and dragged him home and Light had been drunk too and Ide should have thought, should have _realised_ ...

Light hadn’t even left a note.

He showered and ate and went to work on autopilot. What was he going to say? What would he do? If Light tried to talk about it, what the fuck should he _say?_

If Light had told anybody about it ...

The thought made him queasy. Nobody was supposed to know. Nobody. Ever.

Matsuda greeted him with irritating chirpiness, given how drunk he had to have been compared to Ide. He barely looked hung-over at all and seemed to be pepping everybody else up with coffee. Aizawa looked bleary. He nodded at Ide and Ide nodded back, wondering about what Light had said. Wondering exactly where and how Aizawa had spent the night.

He knew that he’d never, ever ask.

“Good morning, Ide-san.”

He hadn’t even heard Light come up behind him. Light smiled, the perfect picture of someone who’d slept well and wasn’t even slightly hung-over, despite going out drinking. Someone who had absolutely nothing to be ashamed of and never, ever would.

They were going to pretend it had never happened, then.

It was probably for the best.

Ide had always been good at not thinking about some things.


End file.
